


Memory Loss

by shaneequa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, Clint thinks they're married, F/M, Natasha kinda likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaneequa/pseuds/shaneequa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clint loses his memory in severe head trauma on a mission, and Natasha’s there with him through everything. He thinks they’re married.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory Loss

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember where this prompt is from, but apparently i filled it a while ago.   
> Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the Avengers, or Marvel... or anything.

Clint always got the feeling of heavy eye lids, especially when he was trying to fall out of sleep, because yes… he does not wake up. He tried to reach up to rub the sleep off his eyes which he normally did at these times, but he tried to reach up and wires were preventing him to do so. Then Clint tried to open his mouth to _ask_ why he was restricted and … wow he didn’t notice that there was a TUBE stuck in his mouth. That was the moment when he started choking and his eyes were forced open by the pain.

_No wonder that…_

“Clint, stop struggling,” a soft voice told him, probably belonging to the redhead he saw flash next to him. Then the tube in his mouth was slowly taken out and he gasped. “Clint, you’re okay.”

The woman, whoever this beautiful woman was touched his hand comfortingly. _Holy shit, Barton, did you score that?_

“Water?” she offered handing him a cup with a straw to drink out of. He nodded and sipped like he hasn’t drunk a drop in a week. Wait, how long has it been since he’s been in the hospital? He felt gross, like he needed a bath, and his throat was pretty damn dry. At least he didn't have a tube in his mouth, just up his nose.

“How long?” he asked, his voice coming out huskier than she was used to. He took another long sip of the water emptying the cup to alleviate his itchy throat. She refilled it and handed him the cup again, full with water. Clint chugged the water once again. 

“Two weeks,” she redhead said hesitantly. “Clint, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked.  _You lucky bastard, gorgeous, and nice? Go Barton!_

“Like you’re imagining me naked.”

“Can I _not_ imagine you naked?” 

He had to admit, he was imagining it now.

The redhead – whose name he still hasn’t figured out – looked at him oddly. “Who do you think I am, Clint?”

“Well, you’re sitting at my bed side, so I’m thinking… you’re… my wife?”

She laughed out loud thinking that it would be a joke, but Clint wasn’t laughing with her. In fact, he looked highly confused.

“You’re … not my wife?”

“Hit your head really hard, one too many times there?”

His face scrunched up.

“You tell me.”

“I… I don’t have a wife? Two kids, one on the way?” Clint asked her confused.

“Unless you’re hiding a wife and kids from me, which I highly doubt, Barton. We spend every waking moment with each other.”

Clint cracked a grin. “So we _are_ married.”

 _Clint high-fived himself internally_.

“I…”

“What’s your name?”

She gulped. “Natasha. You call me Nat.”

“Right, you mind calling the doctor, Nat? I … Probably should see if this is permanent?”

“I really hope not,” she muttered. The first thing to do with amnesic patients was to play into their dream, because reality might come as a shocker to them, so much so that it could shock their brain back into a coma. She walked out the door, sparing a glance at Clint Barton, who has never blatantly checked her out as he was at that moment. 

“Seriously?”

He grinned. “Not sorry.”

She shook her head and walked away, a smile on her face.

 


End file.
